Little story for you :)

Standing in front of the apartment building where I live, I wait for the bus, agitated.
It's 37 degrees outside today; excruciating, blistering heat.
Sweat forms on my upper lip and brow. Irritated, annoyed and flustered I use the back of my hand to wipe the droplets off my face. I look behind me and there are ladies and men sitting around chatting to their friends, not seeming to realize or care how hot it is.
I tell myself " That's my problem, I fidget too much. You know what, no, curse my overactive sweat glands."
5 long, hot, minutes later the big black and red bus pulls over to the side of the road and I am the first to get in. The whoosh of the air-cond on my face as I step in sends a relieving cool feeling all over my body. I walk to middle of the bus and sit by the window on the right side. I settle down and I feel so much better, much calmer. I watch as everybody rushes in and takes their seats.

As the bus begins to make it's way to our university, I look out the window, gazing at the beautiful green trees that tower over and border the neighbourhood across the street from the apartments. From one of the neighbourhood streets in front of the bus emerges a man on a bicycle. He's about 45 to 50 years old from what I can see. He looks back and then he smiles a tiny little smile, but he returns to concentrate on getting a good sweat out of the ride. He cycles his way from the corner and makes his way straight down the street. Not two seconds after him, another person pops out from the corner, on a bicycle too. A girl of about 17, with a serious and sour face plastered on.

I figure she must be that man's daughter.I figure that her father just wants to spend some time with her this morning, by doing some fun exercise. And from her face, that girl doesn't think exercise is fun so early in the morning. She doesn't want to spend time with her father on this blistering hot morning exercising when she could be at home, in bed or watching television. She remains a foot behind her father as they cycle past the bus and out of my sight.

I turn and look at the back of the seat in front of me.

That girl doesn't know how lucky she is.
How lucky she is to have a father who cares.
How lucky she is to have a father so willing to spend time with her, even if she's in one of her moods.
How lucky she is that her father has free time and chooses to spend it with her.
How lucky she is to see her father everyday.

I could tell, even from the millisecond that I witnessed that smile on her father's face, that he loved her, very much.

That girl doesn't realize how lucky she is.
I wish I could go tell her.
"Lighten up girl. You're spending time with your father. Go see if you can out-cycle him. Race him back to your house, beat him on the way, but let him win just before you reach the gate. Let him tell your mother that his 17 year old daughter can't catch up to her 50 year old father. Haha. Let him tell your mother that he's still got it, he's still goood."

Realizing that I'm daydreaming, I shake my head and I laugh a little.

I miss my Daddy.
I wish he was here.